


Taken

by clownprincess



Category: Batman (Comics), Needful Things - Stephen King
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:01:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clownprincess/pseuds/clownprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a work inspired by Stephen King's short stories. It is written as a flow-of-consciousness POV from a clearly disturbed individual. It is written this way, with all its flaws, on purpose. Also inspired by the Joker from Batman comics but only very slightly.<br/>A girl is kidnapped one night and is tortured by a psychotic captor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taken

He had left his mark on me. I’m not sure if I don’t like it. I’ve always liked to feel…wanted. I can’t be sure if he really wants me. I mean, maybe he wants everybody. But he had left his mark on me. I hadn’t heard of him leaving his mark on anybody else. I haven’t heard of him being near anybody else. So maybe he is mine on my oddy knocky. I’d like that. In some weird neurotic/erotic way.  
The most important thing was that he had had me and had left his mark on me and only me and no one else. That’s all I need. That’s all I want. If this had to happen, (and it did) then he damn well had better left his fucking mark on me and only me and no one else.  
If I saw if I ever see his mark on anybody else I will kill them. I will go absolutely insane. This can only happen to me. He can only happen to me. He only have me. I don’t want to share it with you god damn it he is mine. It is mine. These red dots on my thigh are mine and mine alone and you can’t have them I won’t let you. Those red dots in the shape of a face or a clown or is it smiling at me I think it is?  
I am proud of the violence in a way. I am needing to be needed and if he needed me then thank you.  
I’ve been sitting here in my closet for two days now after it happened. I have changed yes sure but I’m sure it’s for the best and better. I am now needed. I always needed to be needed. I always wanted to feel…wanted.  
  
It was late at night and I was getting a donut. Don’t call me fat I like donuts god damn it and I deserve a fucking cinnamon donut if I need one.  
I live in a big city and you know how big cities are full of crazies or are crazies full of a big city?  
Anyway he was there waiting for me when I left the donut shop to the empty parking lot to enter my seemingly empty car. I got in and there he was in my car. I had left it unlocked I guess I can’t remember don’t blame me god damn you. I bet you make mistakes too and do you lock your door every single fucking time you leave I didn’t think so.  
He held a knife to my throat. His breath smelled like chemicals and now that I think of it I liked it a lot. The knife was a long 10 inch blade. Long. Shiny. I bet it smelled nice, too. But he didn’t have me smell it.  
He told me to drive him somewhere and I said, ‘I don’t want to drive, listen if you want to take me somewhere you drive buddy, I hate driving.’  
And so he drove me to this factory looking place far away at the very edges of the city I’d say. Would you say? If you saw it, I mean?  
He pulled me in the building and put me in this room that looked like an operating room. A surgery room. He put me on a table and tied me down. Locked me down. It was metal clamps I remember. They were cold and bit my skin.  
He took off my clothes. Ripped them off. Destroyed them. Cut them to bits. He poked and prodded at my body. Saying things like “Oh yes.” “I see.” “Good, good.” Like I was a show dog. Or a show horse. Or a show goose. Do they show geese? They should. I like geese. Except when they chase you. I don’t like that part.  
Speaking of chasing, he unclamped me to put me in these clothes. They looked like scrubs. Nurses wear scrubs. This was an operating room. Was I going to do surgery?  
Well I ran away. I was scared. And so he chased me like a goose does except it was worse because geese would just bite you and he would just stab me with his knife. There wasn’t anywhere I could go anyway. It wasn’t a big room. The size of my bedroom at home. Not big at all.  
He caught me of course he did. I noticed he was kind of attractive in an unattractive way. He could do. In another chance. Another way. Another time. It’s always the hotties who go nutzo though. Remember that. It’s critical you remember that.  
He was very upset with me. He threw me on the table and did what all guys want to do to me. Except it was worse. Way worse. He didn’t listen when I said stop. It hurt. He wasn’t gentle or caring. He didn’t care that I hated it. I mean, sometimes I don’t like it when the guy I’m with is doing it, but because I like him and he is being, you know, gentle about it at least, I let him finish. This guy didn’t care. Ow it hurt me. It hurt me so bad it hurt my back. If you’d believe me. Which you should because I wouldn’t lie. Why would you think I would lie? That’s not very nice of you because I’m being nice enough to tell you my story anyway so just shut up and listen to me.  
Afterwards he threw me in cage with a mattress in it. I was very upset now. I spit at him. I tried to claw his eyes out. Where was my gun I had a gun didn’t I? My purse! In my car. Which was outside. And I was inside. Locked inside. Locking inside locked inside a cage. I rattled the bars and screamed. I was like a wild animal. Aren’t humans wild animals anyway? What makes us so different? We are vile. We kill, too. We do this to each other.  
I went to sleep eventually. I woke up and he was there, watching me. He asked me if I was on any kind of medication or treatment, even vitamins. I said no. I hardly even take Tylenol, I said. He asked if I had any illnesses. Anything at all. I said no. He seemed happy at this. He smiled. “Good, good.” he said. Goose show.  
He gave me some food. It was health food. Greens. Plants. Veggies. I like them. It was good. But it was no cinnamon donut.  
He left me alone that day. He was preparing the operating room for something. Cleaning he was. Moving. Plotting?  
The next day he gave me an injection and I felt really loopy and high. I felt like my joints were putting out pleasure. I felt like the air was tickling me. He moved me towards the operating table and clamped me in. Then I went out.  
I didn’t know how long it had been. I had had such wonderful dreams. Just to wake up to this. It was kind of funny. I don’t remember thinking so then, though.  
I was still clamped. I saw him holding this rod with a circle at the end. He pressed the circle to my thigh. It burned and stung and I hated it I hated it. I cried out and he put a hand hard over my mouth. I cried. I looked down and there were the dots of a smiling face. I was branded like a cow. Like a pair of jeans. Like a bottle of water. They all have to do with cows if you think about it.  
“Now, now,” he said, “All the bad parts have ended,” and kissed me on my forehead. He injected me again and said, “Sleep now.”  
I guess I did. I don’t remember having any say in the matter. Do you ever have any say in the matter of sleep though? It kind of sneaks up on you and takes you. Against your will. Like he did.  
I woke up in my cage. I felt achy. But not too achy. He told me he had taken something of mine. It must not have been very important because I didn’t hurt that badly. At all. One time I had broken leg and it hurt really bad because bone pain hurts a lot they say. If I was a show horse with a broken leg they would have shot me. I wouldn’t have made a very good show horse. Or a show goose. Geese can’t really afford to break a leg.  
The aching stopped really soon. He gave me some more veggies to eat. Rabbit food. I had a rabbit once that my dad sold for food. I am still sad about that. Poor bunny.  
He kept me for a few more days. He did what all guys want to do to me again. But only once. And not so bad. Not with a vengeance. Still I hated it. Of course. Why did you think I would like it? You thought I was slut? Well I’m not I don’t even like sex ever except maybe once or twice or a few times and it’s none of your business anyway.  
He then drove me back to the donut shop in my car and then he left and I didn’t see where he went but I just drove to my apartment building. To feel safe. Sound. Sounds are nice. I like the sound of the elevator as it took me to my room.  
No calls on the machine. I’d only been gone about four days by my reckoning. Reckon sounds like something a cowboy would say but they didn’t invent the words. The British did and they are very far from being cowboys. It’s funny to think of them as cowboys. Refined Alfred on a horse with chaps on. ‘Chaps’ sounds British though.  
So then I just went into my closet where my clothes are and my shoes are. I sat down because its dark and it soothes me and I just like it I don’t have to explain myself to you. I have a mirror on the door and I noticed that I was missing some hair and there were stitches on my head. He must have taken something out of my head. I hope he didn’t take my sense of directions. I need to know where the world is. Where the store is. Where I am. Where the donut shop is.  
I never did get my cinnamon donut. </pre>


End file.
